


The Deceiver's Light

by HazelDomain



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal, Angel Blade, Begging, Bloodplay, Burnplay, Burns, Choking, Crying, Cutting, Grace Bondage, Grace Kink, Knifeplay, M/M, Painful Sex, Painplay, Penetration with a Foreign Object, Shame, Silencing, Victim Blaming, Violation, blindfolding, gagging, nothing here is consensual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-22 13:09:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7440469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HazelDomain/pseuds/HazelDomain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Uriel is convinced that the reason he can't stop thinking about Sam's sinfully attractive body is some evil trick of Lucifer's. True vessel or not, though, he's just a mudmonkey, and an abomination at that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Deceiver's Light

 

 

Lucifer was supposed to be beautiful. In his true form, he shone like a star, colors and patterns that could never be replicated by a primitive human vessel. Lucifer’s true form was beauty incarnate, the sight of it was enough to bring angels to tears; to shove it into some stinking meatsuit was desecration bordering on blasphemy.

And somehow, despite all that, when Uriel looked upon Lucifer’s true vessel, there was a stirring in him that he couldn’t explain. It’s not like he looked particularly different from any other mud monkey- long limbs, lightly furred skin, upturned eyes, shaggy chestnut hair. None of it was unique. A hundred humans looked like that. A thousand.

And yet somehow, Uriel couldn’t stop watching him.

Castiel was primarily concerned with Michael’s vessel. He was content to leave Uriel in charge of guarding Lucifer’s chosen human.

And Uriel _did_ watch him, silent and invisible, as the man went about his day, busying himself with a hundred mundane little human tasks. Uriel found himself fixating on his hands, his throat, the curve of his hip, the brief glances of his teeth and tongue.

It was a trick. It had to be. Something Lucifer was doing to confuse him, draw him away from his mission. This man was an abomination- his very existence was a sin against heaven, so if there was anything in him that drew Uriel closer, turned his thoughts at inopportune times... it had to be Lucifer’s doing.

As time passed, Uriel became more and more fixated on the beauty of the vessel, until on day- like a bolt of lightning- he realized what it was. Obvious, in retrospect.

The vessel was shining with beauty because the lying little mud monkey had _already said yes._

All their time and wasted effort looking for Lucifer and he’d been right there in front of them this whole time, hiding in plain sight, nestled inside his willing host.

Uriel watched invisibly from his post beside the younger Winchester, waiting for his opportunity.

And then it came.  

 

 

He came to slowly, blinking to clear vision that wouldn’t come. Uriel stood above him, looking impassively down at his ward. The angel’s grace bound him, hand and foot, to the hard table beneath him. He blinked, but Uriel had taken the vision from those bright hazel eyes.

“Come out, brother,” Uriel muttered. “I know you’re there.”

“Uriel?”

“Don’t play dumb. I know you’ve said yes. I want to talk to my brother.”

The vessel struggled against his bonds, Uriel responded by clamping them down further. He opened his mouth to speak, but froze when he felt the sharp edge of an angel blade sliding across his throat.

“I have nothing to say to you. Come out, Lucifer.”

“I haven’t said yes,” he insisted. “Please, Uriel, I haven’t said yes. I never would.”

The tip of Uriel’s blade dropped from his throat and flicked against the top button of his shirt. The button went skittering off into a corner of the room, and Uriel felt a rush of pleasure at the _V_ of flesh exposed by the parting collar.

“I can force you to the surface, Lucifer. Don’t make me do it.”

Another button went flying and the vessel continued pleading, continued _lying_ to him, and Uriel was suddenly impatient. He gripped the sides of the shirt and yanked, tearing them easily asunder. The vessel’s pale skin was laid bare, ribs heaving with breath that was suddenly coming hard.

Uriel laid his hands against the vessel’s belly, letting his grace gather.

“Last chance, brother.”

“Uriel _please-”_

The plea dissolved into a scream as Uriel’s grace flooded against the vessel’s skin, burning hot, leaving the skin reddened and tender in the exact shape of Uriel’s fingers.

It looked good there, Uriel thought, looking down at the defiled vessel. The man was panting and begging, but he tuned it out. His brother was hiding inside this body somewhere, and he would draw the archangel out if it took all night. If the human had to suffer in the meantime, then that was justice, fair recompense for colluding with the deceiver.

Uriel laid a fingertip against the side of the man’s throat, forcing his grace through and leaving a bright red mark in his wake. The pain made the human’s throat tighten, made the cords and tendons stand strong beneath the skin, and Uriel found this beautiful. His fingertips settled on the other side, leaving lines of symmetrical markings down the length of the throat.

He worked his way across the shoulders, enjoying the way the vessel tightened his jaw, the way his torso writhed against the bonds. There were tears leaking from those beautiful eyes and Uriel was surprised at how much this all _pleased_ him, how _right_ it was that Lucifer’s vessel should suffer this way.

He felt his own vessel responding, aroused by the sounds and sights laid out before him, but he ignored it.

He trailed his fingers down the human’s sides, leaving angry red lines in their wake. He paused, then leaned over, dipping his tongue into the human’s shallow navel. He could feel the skin heating under his mouth, could taste it burning as his tongue flicked across the skin. The human screamed.

No sign of Lucifer. Uriel frowned.

He lay a hand on the human’s thigh and the denim beneath burned and flaked, the garment disappearing beneath his gaze. The vessel was left naked from the waist down, the pale unblemished skin of his thighs and calves a sharp contrast to the marked skin of his chest.

The human was becoming incoherent now, pleas and apologies spilling from his lips in a steady torrent, and Uriel pressed his thumbs hard into the tender flesh of his underarm, stilling his tongue into a wordless scream.

“Come out, brother. I can do worse to him, we both know.”

He let the tip of his blade rest lightly against the vessel’s hip, waiting intently for his brother to appear.

When a moment had gone by and Lucifer remained stubbornly hidden, Uriel sighed and allowed the blade to pierce the taut skin beneath his blade. The vessel screamed, and Uriel watched as bright crimson blood began to leak from the wound.

On a whim he bent again, pressing his tongue to the laceration, letting the salty tang of the vessel’s lifeblood fill his mouth.

He frowned, then made another, symmetrical cut, lapping the blood from that wound as well. The taste remained the same. There was a faint sulfur undertone, but the light, sweet taste of grace was utterly missing.

Lucifer wasn’t there.

Uriel climbed onto the table, straddling the human’s hips and yanking him up by the hair.

“Where’s my brother? Where’s Lucifer.”

The vessel stared forward, his blind eyes wet, tears streaking down his face.

“He was never here, I never said yes, I never- I never- I never-”

The human’s words dissolved into a meaningless litany and Uriel slapped him across the mouth, hard. All this had been for nothing, the human had been tricking him this whole time. Lucifer’s lying little whore, blubbering beneath him like he didn’t know why all this was happening. Uriel leaned forward.

“But you know what it’s _like,_ having an angel inside you, don’t you?”

The vessel was shaking his head, protesting. Uriel’s eyes landed on his blade and he had an idea. This had been a huge waste of his time. He’d make sure it didn’t happen again. He tore a strip of flannel off the ruined shirt, wrapping it around the blade as he spoke.

“You _like_ it, being his vessel, being the _chosen_ one. You’re proud and you _flaunt_ it and you need to _stop._ ”

The man opened his mouth to protest and Uriel responded by shoving the handle of the angel blade between his teeth, pushing it back deep, gagging him. He tried to twist away but Uriel held him still, his hands twisted hard in the man’s long hair. Beneath his hips, the human’s body was contracting involuntarily, trying to force the intrusion out. Uriel ground down into him, enjoying the feeling of the lesson he was delivering. The human was helpless against him, completely at his mercy, and it gave him a pleasant feeling deep in his belly.

“I’m going to show you what it’s really like to be Lucifer’s vessel. The _shame_ of it. The _violation._ Because do you know what’s going to happen- what’s _really_ going to happen to you- if you say yes?”

Uriel released his hair and climbed off, ignoring the choking gasps the human was making. With a gesture, his grace forced the human’s thighs wide, exposing him completely. The human struggled, trying to cover himself, trying to protect his most vulnerable places, but he stilled when he felt the point of the angel blade resting against the seam of his groin. His cock rested soft against one thigh, his balls pulled high and tight in fear. Uriel flicked the blade against the velvet skin, not hard enough to cut, but enough to make the human flinch and whimper. He let the very tip of the blade scratch along the human’s hole, making it tighten and jump. He withdrew then, being very still, not making a sound, not touching the human.

The man was shivering, trying to hold still, the terror of Uriel’s next move building in his body with every breath. Uriel _loved_ it, loved the fear and vulnerability, loved knowing that this was Lucifer’s true vessel, brought low beneath him, trembling at the ghost of his touch. He flipped the weapon around in his hand, holding tight to the flannel-wrapped blade.

“What’s really going to happen, if you say yes, is that someone is going to put a blade through you, and I _hope_ it’s _me,_ ” Uriel growled, and before the man could respond Uriel was pushing the thick handle of the angel blade into his defenseless hole, penetrating him deep. Too deep. The angel felt resistance and pushed through it, knowing he was bruising the man’s insides and not _caring._ He had ears only for the human’s pained screams, the way he writhed futilely against the bonds of Uriel’s grace. There was an insistent pressure building in Uriel’s groin and he fumbled his fly open, bringing his hard cock out into the open. He’d never seen it so hard, felt it so demanding, and he stroked it vigorously as he continued fucking the human with his other hand.

The vessel was crying, begging, and Uriel found him tiresome- if he was begging the angel to stop, it meant he wasn’t focusing on his _lesson_ and with a thought, he took the human’s voice.

He continued to struggle, blinded and silent, and Uriel realized he could do this as often as he liked. Whenever it looked as though the human were thinking about agreeing, when he began to _flaunt_ and _preen,_ Uriel could have him here again, spread wide and helpless, begging and apologizing-

The pressure in Uriel’s vessel peaked, his release spurting from the head of his cock and splattering over the human’s marked body. The human twitched, his chest wracked with fresh sobs, and Uriel was suddenly tired of this whole procedure. He withdrew the blade, using the flannel to wipe the thin streaks of blood off the handle. The human remained immobilized beneath him, debauched and defiled, Uriel’s seed cooling on his burned belly.

 _This_ is what the human should look like, Uriel thought absently. Not the proud, arrogant creature he was used to watching. _This_ is what should happen to humans imbued with Lucifer’s beauty.

He put the human back into the motel room he’d taken him from, healing the worst of his injuries so as not to arouse Castiel’s suspicion. He and Michael’s vessel would dismiss anything they were told- if they were told anything at all- but Uriel would know. He’d be watching for the Deceiver’s light to come shining through his vessel again. Because he knew what to do about it now.

**Author's Note:**

> Drove four hours yesterday- four straight hours of thinking nonstop about sex. 
> 
> Mmmyep.


End file.
